


Sleepy Bugs

by NikauRifka



Series: Sleepy Bugs [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Found Family, i just wanted to write soft things can you blame me, just general softness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25187320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikauRifka/pseuds/NikauRifka
Summary: They were a mindless seeming creature, who chirped in subtle discomfort when the bandages wrapping their head hitched up their horn on the side. They couldn’t figure out exactly what to do about it, aside from making such a sound and kneading prickly claws into the soft dirt beneath them, upturning the ground until their new friend would come over to fix it for them.(Or, Quirrel tells bedtime stories)
Relationships: Broken Vessel | Lost Kin & Quirrel
Series: Sleepy Bugs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824010
Comments: 2
Kudos: 89





	Sleepy Bugs

They were a mindless seeming creature, who chirped in subtle discomfort when the bandages wrapping their head hitched up their horn on the side. They couldn’t figure out exactly what to do about it, aside from making such a sound and kneading prickly claws into the soft dirt beneath them, upturning the ground until their new friend would come over to fix it for them. 

And instead of any sounds of gratitude, they would simply watch him sit back down beside them, stretching slightly before crossing one leg over the other, gazing up at the ruined ceiling, light drifting upon the two in yellow beams that revealed floating particles of dust that was prettier than it should have been. Considering it was dust.

They would think about this silently, the same way they did everything, looking up at the ceiling as well and feeling little about it. Though they were certain they felt about other things. Like that the bench was far too hard to sit comfortably upon and they much prefered to sit on the ground in front of it, tearing up the moss as a tired passtime. Their friend seemed happy to join them, at least, which made them feel something that was less bad than everything else. Like the splitting pain in the spot where they were certain used to be a horn, though it was hard to be sure. Or the aching soreness in their wings every time they brushed against a surface, especially the one that didn’t quite fold in the right way. Or when their sibling, who they were almost certain was the last one they had, had to leave to go do. Other things. What were those other things? They seemed important, but what could possibly be so crucial? They only wanted to be near them.

They’d felt bad about it at first, feeling so much effort on their part had been completely pointless. So many husks fought, jumps nearly falling too short. So much pain and exhaustion and somehow managing to crack their mask right open in the process. All for nothing.

But then their friend would scoop them up, as they were too tired to walk any further, and carry them to this peaceful little lake - a different lake than before - not too far away to tend to their wounds. And then, in a way, it felt almost like they were with their sibling anyway. They didn’t know either of them, really. One was a creature who had always been a part of them, the other just a random bug who helped them fill out a map. They could communicate with their sibling a bit better, but Quirrel, well, it  _ felt  _ like he was listening. Even when they had nothing to say. Nothing they  _ could  _ say. Physically.

They recognized their differences. How normal bugs could speak aloud and had complete opinions and didn’t contain a piece of the void within their shell. They  _ knew  _ where they had come from, that they weren’t suited to serve their purpose. If it was placed upon a scale of emptiness, with the lowest being a creature like Quirrel, the highest being their ascended sibling, the one who supposedly served out all of their joint purposes, the broken vessel was somewhere halfway. Just a little more shell than shade.

Technically, that wasn’t supposed to be okay. But they only had the instinct to survive, after all.

Quirrel was quiet, which had been nice before, but now they wanted to hear him talk. So they would make another chirping sound, since he seemed to react to that, repeating the sound until they got a response.

“Are you feeling alright, my friend?” he asked, turning toward the source of the sound. The vessel went quiet and tore up more moss from the ground. They didn’t want  _ conversation,  _ they just wanted him to fill the silence with his voice. 

“My apologies, it probably still hurts, doesn’t it,” he inferred with a little sigh, “Some rest might help you feel a bit better.”

They shook their head without a second thought. They wouldn’t be sleeping, not for a while. Not when so much had gone on and they still needed time to process it all. Their sibling, who they only recently figured out existed and was alive, was off doing something important, and they were left with this strange, yet oddly comforting bug. They were okay with that, but sitting still just didn’t feel right to them.

Quirrel took too long to figure out what they wanted, so they dropped the handfuls of moss they’d been gathering and stood, using the stone bench behind them to support themself until they found their balance. 

Quirrel remained sitting, glancing up at the vessel with slight concern. “It’s a nasty crack you’ve got there, you know. You’ll want to take it easy for awhile.”

The vessel made a scowl-like expression, like a child who wanted to go play in the rain despite being told not to, then walked to the exit of the old stone ruin, lifting their nail which rested against the wall there.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Quirrel said lightly, leaning back and crossing his arms, “You know it’s true. I just don’t want to see you get anymore hurt.”

The vessel paused, looking down at their nail, twisting the point against the ground absently.

“You’re bored, I get it,” he patted the ground next to him, where they had been sitting before, “If you stay here, I’ll tell you a story.”

That piqued their interest. They would look back up, hesitating like they were debating it, but eventually they would set their nail back against the wall and settle back down beside the bug, facing him with curiosity in their hollow eyes.

Quirrel would laugh at that, sitting back up slightly again. “I didn’t think that would actually work. You’re quite stubborn, you know.”

The vessel chirped to express their impatience, tapping lightly against the ground. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Quirrel sighed lightheartedly, “You’ve got to promise me you won’t go running off the second I finish, though, alright? There’s a lot we can talk about, you just have to let me know.”

The vessel tilted their head back in an eye rolling type motion, but they nodded. Communication was difficult, but at least Quirrel seemed to know what their little clicks and chirps seemed to mean.

“Good,” Quirrel said, before relaxing back against the bench, folding his arms behind his head and gazing up at the ceiling. “Now, where to begin…”

He would dive into stories about places outside of Hallownest, going into great detail on their differences, though the vessel hadn’t been to enough places in Hallownest to recognize what he was talking about. What the words meant wasn’t important, however, as it was simply the relaxing tone of a voice telling stories that eventually lulled the vessel to sleep, half curled up on the mossy floor, other half leaning against the older bug’s side.

Quirrel would pause mid-sentence as he noticed, looking down at the small bug curled up beside him. He would smile, finding his intended goal achieved. 

He wasn’t really sure where this bug had come from, as he’d never seen any quite like them, aside from their shorter counterpart who they’d spent so long searching for. But whatever they were, they deserved more than a cracked skull and a rusted nail. They just needed someone who could take the time to figure out what they needed and help them. Someone who could convince them to sleep when they needed to, instead of venturing out and getting themself even more damaged than before.

All in all, it sounded like a quite simple task that Quirrel could take up, just for the time being.

They would heal eventually, and he was sure he would find himself back in front of that lake before too long. He’d lived more than a complete life, there was little left to do, and he was tired anyways. Though, he kept  _ telling  _ himself that, it didn’t seem quite true anymore. For whatever reason, that feeling of completeness he’d felt before was gone, like finding a new side quest in a game you thought you’d completed. Or,  _ more _ than a side quest. An entire sequel. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to see it through.

He would wrap an arm around the little bug dozing next to him to keep them from falling over in their precarious sleeping position - he didn’t want them to crack their mask anymore than it already was, after all - and shift into a more comfortable posture as well, watching the light dance over the overgrown stone walls surrounding them until he, too, drifted off.


End file.
